When In Rome
by Koakuma Tsuri
Summary: 67/100: Endure. Camping was hardly their idea of a holiday. Heavily Sephiroth/Genesis. Yaoi. Mild crack.


67/100: Endure. Sephiroth/Genesis.  
If you're a follower of my dearest xlightfromabovex, you will perhaps notice that it is "tent week" until the 6th of September. What a lovely week it is! Anyway, here's my first fic for it.

Disclaimer - Sadly, none of these characters are mine. But they shall be... one of these days *shakes fist*

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Endure**

When In Rome

"Ah, the great outdoors!" Angeal's voice was positively elated as he dropped his bags heavily to the grass covered soil. They landed in a cacophonous clang of metal at his feet. "Just us and the fresh air, forests, rivers-"

"Bugs, flies, mosquitoes, birds screeching at the crack of dawn, uncomfortable camp beds…" A quick glance around at the surroundings – hills coated in thick forest; a small river that meandered at the foot and the flat lush grassland on which they stood was enough for Genesis. Beauty it had, but a hotel, spa, swimming pool and suave restaurants it certainly didn't.

"This is not a holiday," Genesis finalised, sharply and surely. He carried one large holdall bag in his right hand and had a rucksack across his back that was bursting at the seams. He turned back to his silver haired lover as if for some confirmation from him. He looked for anything that would make Angeal pick up his bags and take them back to Costa Del Sol.

But Sephiroth seemed far too weary under his burden of the rest of Genesis' bags, that had had to be strapped to him like he was an overworked pack mule, to play the redhead's inane games. One by one, he worked away at the binds and one by one bags dropped to the floor unceremoniously. He ignored the blue eyes that glared straight through him, and the shrill words of resentment that accompanied. If Genesis didn't want his stuff broken, he should carry it himself.

An aura of smugness enveloped the general. His feline eyes narrowed as he stepped over the disordered pile of belongings towards Genesis. Black gloved fingers lingered on the man's chin, only to push his jaw back into place. "You'll catch flies."

Genesis shook him off and lurched forwards to salvage his things. Angeal observed him with more pity than disdain. Poor little afflicted rich boy, not knowing the simple pleasures in life. He began to wonder, as Genesis emptied out the bags to assess damage, if the redhead had any sense at all. He had been forewarned that they would be in the middle of nowhere, far from civilisation and ShinRa, but he had still brought _necessary_ accessories such as hairdryers and straighteners and make up and… silk bed sheets. At that point, Angeal turned back to the views.

He'd found this place the previous year, whilst the other SOLDIERs had scurried off in search of sun and sand, like every other rodent than ran day in-day out on ShinRa's giant wheel. For someone of such fastidious tastes, Angeal was surprised Genesis would follow the crowd in such a way, and spend his vacation time somewhere so common.

Poor Sephiroth just tagged along wherever he was taken. He went without a comment or complaint and survived in all climates without adapting whatsoever. There was no such 'holiday mode' to switch on in Sephiroth. He was just perpetual General. Unlike Angeal who was only too glad to throw on baggy sweat pants and a wifebeater and dig out the old straw hats, and Genesis who slid into his haute couture jeans the moment the vacation slip came back with Lazard's signature gracing it, it had taken an eternity to peel Sephiroth out of his black leather. The colour couldn't be shirked from him, but Genesis had worked around that and found a style for him that was… strangely becoming on that slim, long figure.

Sighing, Angeal remembered that certain things needed to be done before they lost too much light: making sense of the tent.

But Angeal had always found that a part of the fun of camping was the struggle of self-assembled accommodation. Wrestling with thin sheets of woven acetate and trying to force metal rods to yield to the inadequately translated instructions was all an experience.

An experience that Sephiroth wasn't feeling, his half of the tent built efficiently in half the estimated time given by the manufacturers. Of course, he had gone by the original Wutaian script, which left no room for speculation and wasting time laughing at incidental innuendos. To which Angeal had ended up laughing to on his own.

Genesis sat cross-legged on the most practical of all his belongings – a fold up chair – buffing his nails and sighing every so often. When asked to help, he raised his eyes, shot a look that left no doubt and sighed again. Angeal knew for a fact that Genesis had never even done so much as made his own bed, let alone build a tent. Even during missions he barked at inferior officers or his friends to construct it for him.  
He was a _project manager_, Angeal had to constantly remind himself…

Sephiroth sat at his lover's side like a grand silver Abyssinian feline, watching Angeal with a detached sense of bewilderment. The tent was hardly complex. Hardly a trying task for a First Class.

If the black haired SOLDIER had not been preoccupied, he would've found the way Sephiroth reacted to Genesis laying his gloved narrow hand atop his hair in such a dainty way hilariously funny. Blinking slowly and the corners of his lips quirking upwards, it seemed like the great general had been _tamed_.

Angeal could recall that little over a decade ago, Genesis had been one for exploring outside and spending his days in the orchards in the company of his two favourite things – LOVELESS and Angeal – and even sleeping out there when things got too hard to handle in the Rhapsodos house.

If anything, the ebony haired SOLDIER had thought that SOLDIER would build upon Genesis' admiration for nature. But instead, the Midgar coup had estranged him with the planet he was only too happy to wax lyrical about in the spoken (and shared) analysis's of ancient verse.

Half an hour before the sun was due to set, the tent was erected; thick foam camp mats rolled out and makeshift beds made up to Genesis' lowest standards. Every spare square inch of space inside had been claimed by Genesis and his belongings. As inconvenient as it was, neither of the younger SOLDIERs commented on it, having gotten used to it over the years.

Angeal's room had always been something of Genesis' second home and Sephiroth's apartment had gone through an invasion in evident stages. In the morning Sephiroth had a near-empty wardrobe; by the evening everything in there was not his. The day after, there had been a knock on the door and the redhead strolled in uninvited with his last box of items held in his arms.

Angeal had only just sat down on the thick, green carpet of grass when Genesis decided to speak up again, in the voice that was so very much like his mother's. Expectant and demanding, but with just enough sickly sweet melody it could scarcely pass as polite. "And dinner?"

"Sephiroth," Angeal groaned and flung himself back. Closing his eyes, he heard the rustle of expensive fabric that was Sephiroth moving; the hum of a zipper then Genesis' indignant squawk.

"Instant noodles?! Have you any idea of the number of carbs in this pot?!"

Angeal smiled and settled in. It was certainly going to be an interesting week. And even though he loved the peace and quiet of the wilderness, he loved the company of his two dearest friends. Even if all he got was iciness and complaints. Their company was enough.

-

For surviving three whole days without ringing up and demanding that the Wutaian restaurant in Sector Six deliver to the door of their tent, Angeal thought that Genesis deserved something different to eat. Although, the constant diet of chicken and beef pot noodles had made the redhead more active. He was willing to go trekking through the forest and up the side of a mountain just to burn off all the carbohydrates and fats he was terrified of letting settle on his figure.

After the group returned from a mission of locating all the different kinds of fungus that grew in different areas of the forest and lecturing the other two jaded SOLDIERs about their medicinal and culinary uses as well as reproduction cycle, Angeal was up and running again. He left Genesis in his chair, nursing his muddied dress shoes and Sephiroth in the tent organising socks or whatever the painfully anally retentive man did in his spare time to avoid his irritable lover.

It was hard not to skip across the meadow towards the river, finally able to freely enjoy the countryside without his two favourite antithetical downers lagging behind. Instead, knowing he had to keep some of the masculine dignity he was admired for, he simply swung the canvas bag he clutched in his hand whimsically. Just like Genesis' love of the stage and Sephiroth's affiliation with his leather sofa, Angeal felt most comfortable out in the open.

The gentle breeze ran through his long dark hair like a lover's fingers, nature almost returning his affection. Down at the river was idyllic. Small cataracts had crystal clear water singing and splashing in a harmony such that as Angeal settled down on the embankment, he could've just laid back and slept to the calm birdsong above. Clumps of bright green plants waved in the current beneath the surface; little fish swam about, looking for food before darting back for security. On the mottled floor of rocks and sand, Angeal's enhanced sapphire eyes could make out the small dark shapes of his targets. Freshwater crayfish.

Like a seasoned predator, a large black heron that lay in wait for an unspoken eternity, Angeal was able to capture the little crustaceans with an effortless ease. A glimpse of moment, he calculated the correct angle, taking refraction into quick consideration and a lightning jab of his hand, had another in the bag

When he was done, the population of the small brown crayfish was near decimated within the six-foot radius around Angeal's feet. He glanced at the bag full of his catch and smiled. There was enough scrabbling about inside to feed the three of them, taking Genesis' love of seafood into careful consideration.

Contented, he slung the bag over his shoulder and waded back to the riverbank. His feet kicked up silt and scared even the most inquisitive fishes back to their weedy refuges. Though, as soon as he was back on terra firma life beneath the surface went on as usual. He took a moment to indulge himself, sitting back on the bank and watching the water flow downstream as a leisurely pace. He could've spent hours here, if only just to see if his friends would get up and look for him. But the constantly wriggling bag reminded him that he had crustaceans to put out of their misery. Sighing, Angeal heaved himself back onto his feet and set off back to camp.

Much to his surprise, the tent was still erected and all of the bags were in place meaning that Genesis and Sephiroth hadn't bolted back to Midgar when given the chance. The two SOLDIERs were otherwise predisposed anyway. Genesis' manicure kit was scattered across the grass in the area, as if there had been a struggle. Or Sephiroth had pounced on him.

Which didn't seem like a ridiculous idea, considering Genesis was on his back amidst the litter of small metal and plastic instruments. Hands pinned above his head, legs wrapped around Sephiroth's slim waist, his bright magenta feet twitching rhythmically in the air, he was completely lost in Sephiroth's domineering kiss.

They probably hadn't even noticed how long Angeal had been gone for.

He ignored them as he always had to. It wasn't until he walked straight past them and placed the bag on the floor that they broke apart for air. Their position didn't change.

"Angeal! You've been gone for ages!" Genesis spluttered, short of breath and readjusting his tongue to a different use.

"We went looking for you," Sephiroth's lie was as plain on his features as it was in his voice. Strange how being in close contact with Genesis made him acquire human traits.

"Oh really?" Angeal smiled despite his dismissive tone. He reached into his bags to pull out a large metal cooking pot and filled it with one of the many bottles of water he had packed away. "Weren't looking very hard, were you?"

Sephiroth glanced down into Genesis' eyes, where the latter was trying to stifle a laugh. "I was just… seeing if Genesis had eaten you."

The redhead burst out laughing and pushed Sephiroth to the left of him, and followed the momentum to bring himself on top. "I've really got to teach you better."

Shaking his head, Angeal blocked the pair out, knowing that their games would go on until Genesis was presented with his food. Instead, he focused on cooking.

First, he boiled the crayfish to get the nasty part over and done with quickly, not one to like taking a life – even one so small. As a distraction from the bubbling crustaceans, he imagined that the dancing brown bodies were merely enjoying a stint in their new hot tub. He turned his back on the other two SOLDIERs on one occasion, pretending that they were sat quietly apart from each other reading, to tell Genesis to light a fire. All the oldest did was momentarily free a hand to click his middle finger and thumb. Immediately a little gathering of flames was at Angeal's side, burning with no fuel and not touching the grass around it.

"You should get ready for dinner, you two."

There came no sounds of them moving. Not in the way he had suggested anyway. But as soon as Angeal had skewered the first of the crayfish and slid it into the calm, orange flames, Genesis shot up, recognising the smell immediately.

"'Geal, I love you."

-

Midnight. The wilderness was far from silent – but free from apathetic mumbles and grunts. Wind whistled between the green leaves of the trees and grass. Foxes barked in the forest and the low haunting sound of owls haunted all listening ears.

All listening ears summing up to one pair. Angeal's, nonetheless. Occasionally the other two sleeping SOLDIER's ears twitched, irritable from the repetitive noises, but they were otherwise motionless. As they had been for the previous nights, Genesis was virtually inside Sephiroth's sleeping bag, smiling and ensnared in a net of overprotective arms. Even the general's expression was far from his usual indifference.

Smiling, Angeal sat up, switched on his torch and shook the two awake. It was the least he could do to spoil a moment of their bliss, for putting one hell of a damper on all of his so far.

Groggily, Genesis turned around to glare straight through his friend, eyes a brighter blue than the torch shining in his face. No trace of that content beam remained on his face. Just murderous intent. It was the same story for Sephiroth, though it was the façade of ice that prevailed.

"What do you want?"

Angeal smiled excitedly and held out two other torches. "Bat watching!"

Simultaneously, the lovers pulled the covers far over their heads and held them there. Angeal sat there and watched for a few minutes, waiting for either one to reluctantly accept his offer. But neither did. With a long, loud final sigh of disappointment, Angeal pushed himself to his feet and slipped back into his boots.

"I thought dinner was suspicious," was the last thing he heard as he left the warm darkness of the tent.

-

"Ngh, Seph, I-"

He should have expected this.

"Spread your legs more for me, songbird."

He _really_ should have expected this.

The pair had been scarily well behaved all day. Not a single shred of annoyance for the rude awakening the previous night lingered. Not even in Genesis – who had willingly accepted his steaming plastic pot of noodles in the evening and devoured it with zeal. They had joined in his little nature games and botanical identification and didn't make a negative remark over anything.

He should've recognised that glimmer in Genesis' eyes sooner.

And now, over the music of the forest, all he could hear was their breathing – hot and heavy and echoing between them - and Genesis' soft moans and the slickness of their adept merging.

Angeal knew that the redhead's vocals were not completely intended to wake him and drive him slowly insane. When in the frame of mind that he was now, Genesis was oblivious to the world around him, as consumed by Sephiroth as the youngest was by him. Literally. But he knew Angeal was there, besides him, and he was blatantly getting off on it.

The best plan was to not let them know that he was awake. Let them continue and exhaust themselves and feel wholly incompetent in the morning. Feigning his slumber, Angeal turned over and cracked one eye open.

Sephiroth had his hands under Genesis' knees; pressing those legs back against the older's body, and working his hips back and forth within their bracket in a smooth rocking motion. His stimulus was obviously skilled, as Genesis' hands flew in different directions to anchor himself down. His left in the general's long hair, immediately yanking him down for a kiss… and the right flung out to the side, over Angeal's chest and fisting the smooth padded acetate of his sleeping bag.

Though the dark haired commander certainly could hide his consciousness easily when his friends were so possessed by each other, there was one reaction he just couldn't hide. Not with Genesis' wandering hands on the loose.

He certainly had to applaud them, in manner of speaking. They had finally, after five whole days of nothing but the peaceful wilderness, been able to reduce themselves down to and enjoy nature in the only way Angeal suspected they knew how.

But next time, he'd give them a tent of their own.


End file.
